


Satisfied: A Star Wars Musical

by asingerofsongs, MayGlenn



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Bad French, Bad Spanish, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Force4Ham, M/M, Racism, Slow Burn, child bb-8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9672782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asingerofsongs/pseuds/asingerofsongs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: A new production ofHamiltonis coming to Broadway, and Leia Organa is directing. Poe  (Hamilton) is trying to juggle single parenthood and falling in love with his co-star, Finn (Burr) is running away from overseas fame and a tragic loss, Rey (Eliza) doesn't want to have to go back to waiting tables, Jessika just wants a date, and mom keeps thinking a lead role in a Broadway show will responsible Ben up (but she's probably wrong).





	1. In New York You Can Be A New Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Topographical_Map_Of_Utah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topographical_Map_Of_Utah/gifts).



> Art by [Topographical_Map_of_Utah.](http://topographical-map-of-utah.tumblr.com/)

The plane landed at 6 in the evening—or, as his jet-lagged brain insisted, midnight. By the time he got to his apartment by a combination of subway and some aimless wandering, his body was convinced it was two in the morning and he could barely make it up the stairs to his floor. He was dragging around a very large suitcase and his backpack, which was all he'd brought with him to start over. The things which had been dearest to his parents, he'd left with his ex-manager, now friend, back in France. When he was settled, she would send them to him, but for now he had clothes and a few of the things too precious to leave.

His heart was pleasantly numb right now. He could pretend this was just a trip and that next time he went home, his mom and dad would be waiting for him in their old house. They'd be there right where they should be. And he wouldn't be an orphan.

He shouldered into his apartment and flailed around for the light switch. It was a nice little place, bright and clean and new, with plush carpet and white walls.

And he hated it. It was empty, and sterile, devoid of any feeling of home. Finn took a deep breath and set his backpack down next to his bag before turning and walking right back out the door. He would find a hotel. This wasn't something he could deal with right now, going on too many hours without sleep and a body that was insistent on shutting off until a reasonable hour. He got the door locked (barely) and went wandering back down the hall.

Poe didn't usually make a habit of sprinting up the stairs, but then he thought he didn’t have an upstairs neighbor so didn't expect anyone to be coming down. Also, he'd skipped leg day and maybe sprinting up with a bag of groceries in one arm and his kid in the other would make up for that and—

"Whoa, shit!" Poe cried, meeting someone coming down (who also wasn't paying attention, like, seriously, he was huffing and puffing so loudly, how did they miss that?!) and knocking the poor guy flat on his ass, and dropping his groceries and grasping Beatrice with both arms. "Oh my God! I'm sorry, man," he apologized.

"Whee! Swear jar, Papi!" Beatrice said, kicking him gently. "Hi, Mister!"

"Oh my God. You okay, man? Sorry. Let me help you up," Poe stammered, shifting his daughter to his hip to offer the guy a hand.

It was startling to find himself sitting hard on the ground among a scattered assortment of groceries, and Finn looked around dumbly before realizing he was being spoken to. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention. Do you need help?" He took the hand that was offered and let the man pull him to his feet. "That bag looks really broken... I can carry some of this," he added. Embarrassed that this was his fault and probably a really bad first impression, he bent to pick up some of the spilled groceries.

"Not a problem, kid, I wasn't look where I was going," Poe said, also trying to right the groceries one-handed. "See, it's mostly salvageable," he teased gently, since there was an egg situation in the bottom of a plastic bag. He tried to place the man’s accent. "You just moved in? French, right? Or Belgian? Je dois...pratiquer mon français," he laughed. "Was that right? I think I know just enough French to make me dangerous."

Finn nodded and handed over a box of cookies, noting that one of the bags was now leaking. "I think I broke some of your eggs," he said vaguely, and then shook his head to bring his attention back. "Uh—yeah, France. But maman was American," he said, "I got here two hours ago."

"All the way from France?" Poe exclaimed. "By yourself?" When the kid nodded, Poe very suddenly decided something. "Okay, you can help me clean up this egg mess and in return I'll cook you dinner. How's that sound? That trans-Atlantic flight sucks and you look like you could use a friend. You here for school or what?" he asked as he led the way to his apartment—Leia really had no idea what he could afford when she said he could move into her son's old condo, but it had been right by Bea's daycare and by the theatre, and it was huge and gorgeous and paid for so he certainly wasn't going to say anything. Bea didn't want to be set down just yet, peering at the new person curiously. "I'm sorry, I'm Poe. Poe Dameron. This is Beatrice. Say hello, Bea Bea," he prompted.

Suddenly, Beatrice grinned. "Hi!"

Finn smiled at the little girl in Poe's arms when she chirped her hello. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Beatrice! I'm Finn. Tolbert, like Colbert, but with a T." He shook Poe's hand, only barely avoiding the French custom of kissing his cheek in greeting. That would have made an awkward situation worse...especially since the guy was kind of cute… "And I apologize in advance if I forget your names... I haven't slept in...28 hours or something. But I can probably stay awake to help clean up and eat dinner. I didn't plan very well when I bought my tickets. I just—" he wondered how much he should say. Probably best not to scare this very kind man and his daughter off with the whole sob story that had led up to this moment. "I just needed a new place to be, and I've heard in New York you can be a new man." He grinned, inwardly congratulating himself for the reference even though he was exhausted. "So here I am."

"You're okay, man, no worries," Poe said. "Have a seat. Can I get you a beer or something? Soda? Feel free to nap on the couch til food's done. I totally won't let my daughter put flower stickers on your face, or anything," he said with a wink. "I was thinking tacos because it's something the two-year old will actually eat. You're not a vegetarian?"

"No, not a vegetarian. I'm allergic to peanuts, but only in an I'll be miserable way, not an I'll be dead way," Finn answered as he curled up on the couch. His mother had always sworn he would hurt his knees from sitting like this, but he thought it was more likely he'd hurt them dancing or tripping on stage. Anyway, sitting curled up was comfortable. He blinked owlishly as Poe moved around the kitchen, well into the thousand yard stare of sleep deprivation. And then Bea popped up in front of him and he started before smiling at her a little hesitantly. "So you like tacos, huh?" he asked her.

"Yep!" the little girl said, peering at him carefully. She looked a lot like Poe, but her skin was a shade darker and her hair had tighter curls. She was wearing an orange dress. Seeming to decide something, she left the room, and returned promptly with a large book, which she set in Finn's lap and then moved to sit next to him. "I read to you, then you go nigh-nigh," she explained, very matter-of-factly.

"Bea, sweetheart," Poe called from the other room. "Mr. Finn is very tired, let's not bother him. You want to come drink your juice?"

"Nope!" she said, and pulled the book onto her lap and opened it, beginning to explain to Finn a story involving colorful frogs and their adventures—she obviously wasn't reading, but seemed to know the story well enough to fake it, more or less.

Finn listened intently to Bea's story, following along with the pretty pictures and somewhat disjointed story that accompanied them. But soon his eyes started drifting shut, and about the time Bea finished the story and flipped back to the beginning to start a new one, his eyes had closed and he was asleep, contrary to every intention he'd had to stay awake until dinner.

Bea nodded in satisfaction, and struggled down from the couch to march into the kitchen.

"How was storytime, sweetheart?" Poe said.

"Good," she chirped. "He's asleep!"

Poe laughed. "Holy cow, really?" He ducked out, and indeed, the kid was literally passed out on his couch. He looked like he needed it, so Poe slung a blanket over his knees. Yes, it had Dora the Explorer on it, but he didn't think the guy would be picky.

"Okay, sweetheart, let's be a little quieter so Mister Finn can sleep. Want to help me stir the beans, chiquita?" he asked, and he and his daughter spent the evening cooking together, while they still could, before he would be stuck spending all his evenings in rehearsals.


	2. Alexander Bunnyton

Hunger eventually awoke Finn and he blinked in confusion, not immediately sure where he was or why he smelled tacos or why he was covered in a Dora the Explorer blanket. His brain eventually reminded him that he was in the home of Poe Dameron, his neighbor, and Bea, the probable owner of the blanket. He hadn't meant to fall asleep...

When he stumbled into the kitchen, he was at least partially awake. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I'm sorry I missed your story," he said, the second part directed to Bea.

"Hey, buddy!" Poe said, handing the kid a beer and encouraging him to sit. "Just in time!" The table was set, Beatrice was in her highchair happily eating her deconstructed taco.

"Hi, Mister Finn! You sleeped dood?" the toddler asked, swinging her feet.

"Some people like to make their own tacos, but if you'd rather me just put a plate in front of you, I'm good either way, Finn," Poe said, standing awkwardly with a plate, ready to hand to Finn or fill for him. Part of him wondered what the hell he was doing inviting a total stranger into his home like this, but the poor kid just looked so helpless that Poe couldn't...help himself?

"It's been a long time since I made a taco..." Finn said, but he took the plate and went to attempt making at least one. About halfway through it, he sighed and passed the plate wordlessly over to Poe, something he never ordinarily would have done. But he was going to spill the tacos all over the floor if he tried any harder to make it, so he sat down and sipped the offered beer. "Thank you for dinner. And for this. I've never had this kind. My parents, they drink—drank—mostly wine. Very stereotypical, I know." He smiled to cover for his mistake in tense. Too tired. He was too tired to be speaking. There was no telling what he'd say.

This poor freaking kid, Poe thought. _Was that a language thing—a slipped tense—or had he lost his parents?_ "Oh, man, I'm sorry. I'll have wine for you next time." _Next time?!_ "Hey, you're over 21, right? I should have asked earlier, so maybe don't answer, haha." Poe had built a generous taco plate for their guest, and set it down for him. "Mange!" he instructed, "Eat, please. There's plenty more, too if you want seconds."

"I like beer, I just never drank it much at home. I drank it out with friends," Finn said. He had a feeling he was pickier about wine than would be suspected. It wasn't that he had a discriminating palette, either. He just didn't like most wine, unless it was sweet. Instead of going into detail, though, he took another sip of beer and grinned a little wickedly. "I assure you I'm plenty old enough to drink, even in this country." And since the tacos looked delicious, he set to eating.

There was some strange part of Poe that liked to watch people eat and enjoy his food—between Beatrice, who carefully picked up and ate a bean here, a piece of cheese there, and Finn, who was wolfing down the meal like he hadn't eaten in days, Poe almost didn't need to eat himself. He could just watch them. But that _was_ creepy, and he was already borderline creepy neighbor just asking this kid in for dinner, so he sat down across from Finn and next to Beatrice to eat his own plate of tacos.

"Hey, you're doing a good job, sweetheart," Poe said. "How about your poor lonely tomatoes, don't you like them?"

"Yes! I want them to liiiiiiiive," Beatrice exclaimed dramatically, and Poe laughed.

"Oh my God. Can you believe this kid?" he asked Finn. "Come on, sweetheart, eat 'em up or they die an ignoble death in the trash. You see, Mister Finn is eating his tomatoes."

Beatrice peered at Finn, managing to raise one eyebrow independent of the other to look as though she had been deeply betrayed. "Are they safe?" she asked Finn.

"Yes, they're very good! They want to serve their purpose, I think, which is to be eaten." He picked up a little cube of tomato that had fallen off his taco and popped it in his mouth. Then he raised both eyebrows at Bea, as if daring her to one-up him. This wasn't an unfamiliar game to him, given that the producer for one of his shorter tours had had a three-year-old who was not convinced that broccoli was a food.

Beatrice cackled madly as she stuffed a whole handful of tomatoes in her mouth.

 _Oh fuck me he's good with kids_ , Poe found himself thinking before he was so _embarrassed_ at himself for thinking that, that he had to stand up and walk away...to grab another beer. It hasn't been a year yet, Dameron, he scolded himself, and let the thought flit away: he was just lonely, sure, that was it.

"You want some more?" Poe asked. "Or another beer? Water. Have you had water recently?" he corrected. "Flying dries you out, here," he said, setting a glass of water on the table.

Once he took a sip of the water, Finn realized it was maybe the best thing he'd ever tasted in his whole life except for the tacos this kind neighbor and his kind daughter had just made for him while he slept on their couch.

His life was really strange at the moment, but he was going to roll with it.

He finished the glass of water before realizing it was even half gone and laughed. "I'll say. I didn't realize I was so thirsty," he said, and because he didn't want to impose, stood and refilled his glass before returning to the table. "Would you know a good place for furniture? Comfortable furniture," he asked, and then sighed. "On second thought, I won't remember. Tell me after I've slept." Which he would do right this second, given half a chance. He should probably go find a hotel room or something for the night, until he could get things somewhat settled tomorrow...

"Buddy, do you not have _furniture_ yet?" Poe exclaimed, getting up to pick up the beans that Beatrice had flung to the floor. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"A hotel? Or my floor, if I decide that's too far to go," Finn said, "Only got here two hours ago, remember?" he asked, repeating the same number as earlier, but he wasn't up for math right now.

"Madre de dios," Poe laughed. "You can't sleep in a hotel! Let me give you a sleeping bag at least, or—better yet, you should just crash here. You can have the couch, use the shower in the morning, and we can point you in the right direction for furniture tomorrow."

"Sleepover!" Beatrice exclaimed, flinging her arms wide and sending cheese shreds everywhere.

"I could sleep in a hotel...I'm good at sleeping in hotels, and on buses...in trailers...airports..." Finn trailed off, which was probably lucky. He could have named places he'd fallen asleep in for awhile, but it wasn't especially relevant. "Are you sure? It won't be weird having a stranger sleeping on your couch? I could take a sleeping bag back to my apartment, it wouldn't be a problem," he said, although that couch had been so amazingly comfortable. He was sure he'd never sat on a more comfortable couch ever in his life. And Poe and his daughter were so nice...

He shook his head. _Come on, Finn, wake up and make up your mind—Do you want to sleep here or sleep somewhere else? Figure it out..._ "Sorry. I'm really tired. I can't think," he said in mild frustration.

"Seriously, I insist," Poe said. "You're staying. Go grab your bag if you need to, but I have a pack of toothbrushes and anything I have you can borrow."

"Wheeeeee!" Beatrice cried.

"Okay, kid, we're done eating."

"Cookie time?"

"Maybe, kiddo. Let's get Mister Finn's bed set up first, okay?" He smiled at Finn as his daughter toddled after him going down a hall, and she re-emerged carrying a handful of linens.

"Here," she panted, setting the stack on the couch. "I'll be right back," she explained, and returned again with a stuffed bunny. "Here. Awezander Bunnyton is good to sleep with."

Poe grinned as he took in the scene. "That's very nice of you, Bea. Can you go get me your jammies, baby?"

"Yep!" she said, and her bare feet flip flapped down the hall.

Poe smiled at Finn as he began making up the couch for sleep. A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't exactly awkward. The kid had a familiar look about him when he took off his hat, but Poe didn't want to say anything.

Finn picked up the well-loved rabbit and pet the long, soft ears. "Alexander Bunnyton?" he asked Poe after a minute. The bunny really was very soft, and petting it was keeping him awake enough to carry on a conversation. "He isn't wearing his glasses," he added half to himself, although why this statement seemed perfectly reasonable to him would be a complete mystery later. For one thing, tiny glasses would have been a choking hazard, so of course they were absent...

Idly, he started humming “Yorktown,” because he had been listening to the soundtrack on the flight over, and it had a tune he could hum and the refrain was especially timely. "The world turned upside down," he sang softly, unaware he was doing so.

"Oh, yeah...you a _Hamilton_ fan, too?" Poe said, a bit embarrassed and wanting to change the subject. "Uh, so, here, let me get you a toothbrush and a towel. You can shower now or in the morning. We don't get out until late, though I'll get the coffee pot ready so whenever you wake up you just push a button." Poe set Finn up with a toothbrush, towel, washcloth, clean T-shirt and underwear (he had unopened packages of these).

"Ready!" Beatrice exclaimed, running naked through the house and waving her pajamas in her tiny balled fists.

"Uh, sorry," Poe laughed. "Take your time in there, man," he said, and the shrieks told Finn that Bea had been caught and wrestled into her clothes.

As soon as Finn saw the shower, he decided he'd like to be clean after all. There was something comforting about the universal operation of showers, he thought, and then laughed at himself for having nostalgic thoughts over shower handles...

The water was wonderfully hot, and he took full advantage of it, standing under the spray for several minutes before he scrubbed his short hair clean. While he washed the grittiness of travel off the rest of his body, he started humming one of his own songs, an upbeat hip-hop tune that was half French and half English. It had always been one of his favorites...

"Papa, whass Mister Finn singing?"

"Baby, I don't know, you'll have to ask him," Poe said, wrestling her jammies on and making a child burrito out of her with a blanket. "But you ask him in the morning, okay? He's very sleepy and you need to get to bed, too."

"OTAY," she said, dramatically, "but I want to say goodnight."

"All right, kiddo."

"And have a cookie."

"God help me," Poe said, and carried her into the kitchen to have one cookie and a small glass of milk. She was a nice distraction, though, from the thought of how familiar that song was. Realizing something, he got up and went through some of his old things for something for Finn to wear to sleep in, and set them by the door. "Got some old clothes for you to sleep in!" he called, and then winced. Not _old_ old, just, you know. Comfy.

When he felt clean of all the travel grossness, Finn shut off the water and stepped out of the shower into the steamy warm bathroom. Poe Dameron had nice towels—not overly thick, but soft, and actually absorbent. Once he had dressed in the clothes Poe head left him, he peeked out of the bathroom to see if Poe and Bea had already gone to bed or if they were still awake. He found them eating cookies and drinking milk, Bea wrapped in a blanket in her father's lap. It made him grin. "Thanks for the shower," he said, and held out his arms to show the old clothes, "And for these. They're—cozy."

"Good," Poe said, trying not to think how good the kid looked in them.

"Hab a cookie!" Beatrice said, going for inviting but in the end sounding rather imperious.

Poe shifted Beatrice to the chair so he could get up, reach a cookie from the package on top of the fridge, and hand it to Finn. "You want some milk, too, buddy?"

"Yes please. I don't think I've had cookies and milk in years!" Finn laughed, taking the seat across from Bea. He yawned and shook his head. "That's if I can stay awake to eat a cookie," he added.

"That's okay, man, this one'll be out in ten minutes. Cookie, milk, bed. We're lucky we get her teeth brushed most days." He grinned. "Father of the year," he huffed. And indeed, Beatrice was already nodding into her milk—"I tell you, it's like I spiked it with something," Poe said, picking her up. "Come on, my Bea-Bea-Gun," he said, petting her hair and carrying her to the bathroom. She did manage a teeth brushing and even a short hair combing before she was out and he tucked her into her bed before returning.

"So. I don't have anywhere to be particularly early tomorrow, so sleep as long as you want. Glad to help you straighten your place up if you need it, too, man." He clinked their milk glasses together. "Welcome to New York."

Finn smiled softly and clinked their glasses together before drinking the rest of his milk. "Thanks. This is so much better than a hotel. Much better company," he said, and then stopped talking before he could say anything embarrassing.

"Told ya," Poe grinned, and took their dishes to the sink. "You can go brush your teeth before _you_ fall asleep. There's a brand new one still in its wrapper for you." He pulled a water bottle from the refrigerator. "Here, and drink this. You're still probably dehydrated."

Finn did as he was told, and returned five minutes later, teeth brushed, water gone, and stumbling sleepily. "G'night. Thank you again," he said to Poe, and went promptly to the couch. He was asleep as soon as he'd wrapped himself and Alexander Bunnyton in the blanket and rested his head on the pillow.

"You're welcome, buddy," Poe said, and he putzed quietly around his house now that he had it to himself, getting things in order for tomorrow, mostly. Tomorrow was the first day of auditions, and Leia wanted _him_ there, like he would be any help, but anything she wanted from Poe, she got.

So he was prepping for auditions, making notes in his script, notes on the music, writing character descriptions and poring carefully over production notes, because he was a professional, and he did his homework. And try as he might, Poe's thoughts kept drifting back to the stranger on his couch, as much as he tried not to. He looked oddly familiar, Poe thought, for the second time, but he had _just_ moved here, and Poe had never been to France, in spite of having a few cousins there, so, yeah. He was just crazy.

…

Poe was the last to bed and the first awake, which was the way he liked it, and got started on a big pot of oatmeal and a pot of coffee.

Finn woke up with his face half buried in the pillow he'd slept on, not sure where he was or why or really even how. But he did smell food, and even though he felt like he'd been hit by a train, he sat up to have a look around. As soon as he opened his eyes enough to actually see, he remembered that he was in the apartment of his neighbor, where he'd spent the night so he didn't have to stay in a hotel. He didn't remember much more than that. There was a stuffed bunny that he'd tucked close to his chest, which he vaguely recalled pulling under the blanket with him so as not to upset Beatrice by not sleeping with the little fellow.

Names, though, he remembered those. He made use of them as he stumbled into the kitchen to see if he could help. "Can I do something? You let me sleep on your couch, I could at least wash dishes or something," he offered.

"Hey buddy!" Poe said. "You're looking a lot better, no offense. Sleep okay?" He gestured Finn into the room. "You can help me finish this coffee before Bea wakes up. Ever seen a toddler on coffee? You don't want to." Finn looked adorably disheveled, his hair flat on one side. Poe almost didn't want him to go back to his own apartment...

"Of course—can't have a caffeinated two-year-old running around," Finn said as he accepted the cup of coffee and drank three swallows before realizing it was _really fucking hot_. "That was not particularly smart," he gasped once he'd swallowed.

Poe laughed. "Right. Knew I could count on you, buddy," Poe said. "Hope you like oatmeal? And you can have the bathroom whenever, I've already showered." He smiled at Finn as he sat at the kitchen table. "It's even a nice day, you know, for shopping or whatever. I can point you in most of the right directions, though I'm new to this side of town." The moneyed side

"I love oatmeal. Do you have honey? Or brown sugar?" Finn asked. He took another sip of coffee, slow enough this time to taste it. It was surprisingly good, and he gave it a surprised look before taking another sip. "Did you just move here, too?" He held the coffee mug in his hands and let the warmth seep into his palms. It was relaxing, and he sighed softly. At this rate, he'd be asleep again in a half hour.

"Yup. Both," Poe answered, getting out honey and brown sugar and Nutella—"Don't ask, I gave it to my daughter once and now there's nothing else that can possibly go in oatmeal"—before giving the oatmeal a final stir and refilling his coffee mug, draining the last of it. "We moved here about a month ago. For work, for a show I'm doing."

Finn brightened at this—at the possibility that his new neighbor knew something of performance, maybe even music. He'd left France to get away from the fame, cut his hair and shaved, but he'd never wanted to leave music. "You perform? Like...the kind where there's music, or something else?" He would worry about furniture later—this was much more interesting.

"Yeah, man, I’m a burlesque dancer and—no, just kidding," Poe said, still stupidly embarrassed to talk about what he actually did, or was going to do. He'd been in theatre and music all his life, but now that he'd gotten his proverbial 'big break' he was trying to hide it from everyone. He hadn't even told his parents yet—in case it fell through, or something, he told himself, though he knew better. "Yeah. Heard of _Hamilton_? Of course you have. There's—auditions this week and—for a new theater. New direction, all-new cast." And the way the kid's face brightened visibly at just the mention of it... "You into musicals, Finn?" he asked, feeling better turning the question back around.

He was "saved" by his daughter, who arrived with a large pink bunny tucked under one arm and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with the other.

"Morning, sweetheart!" he told her, lifting her up, where she promptly laid her head on his shoulder. She and Finn were both a bit slow in the mornings, apparently. "Sleep well?"

"Mm-hmm," she said. "Papa, how come Mister Finn didn't sleep in your room with you?"

"Uhh," Poe coughed. "Well, because the couch is, ah, comfier?"

"But when Papa's friends usually stay over they—"

"Hey, baby, why don't you sit down and drink your milk, okay?" Poe stammered, blushing red to his ears and trying not to make eye contact with this kid who didn't need to know about where his guests usually slept. He had to stop doing that now that she was getting old enough to notice—and _blab_ , apparently.

Finn gave Poe a cheeky grin and resumed eating his oatmeal so the other man wouldn't catch him blushing. Bea seemed blissfully unaware, sitting and drinking her milk and swinging her feet. Her bunny reminded him of Alexander Bunnyton, and of his namesake, and he turned back to Poe. " _Okay_ , wait. Did you say _Hamilton_? _The_ _Hamilton_? The one I was quoting last night when I was half-asleep? _That Hamilton_?  I don't know if I'm into musicals, but I'm into that one. It's incredible! You're auditioning for it?"

"Yup!" Beatrice answered. "Papa's gunna be Awezander Hammyton in the show! Tante Leia told him so!"

Poe blushed fiercely, grabbing her head like it might shut her up. "Uhh, yeah. The director is a friend of the family. She asked me to do it. To play Hamilton. Horrible nepotism, I know. Do you sing? We're looking for men and women of color, of course. Auditions run through Saturday, you know, you might get lucky," he said, and winked. _Oh, God, why had he said that? Why did he wink?!_

"I, uh, like... Yeah, well, I could audition, maybe," Finn stammered. If he auditioned and actually got a part it could turn out like France so over again, and he needed a break. He had a life to put back together, parents to mourn... An apartment to furnish, bills to pay, but plenty of money from CD sales and concerts and other merchandise that he still earned royalties on. He could take things easy as long as he wanted or needed to. "When are the auditions?" he asked sheepishly.

"Do you have a phone that works here? I could text you the info," Poe said, and actually congratulated himself on getting the guy's number before even he realized he was doing it— _Hopeless, Dameron_.

"Yeah, I have a phone for travel until I get a permanent one. It's somewhere around here," he said, and got up to paw through his clothes from the night before that he'd left next to the couch. Once he found the phone in his pocket, her brought it back into the kitchen and looked expectantly at Poe. "Put yours in mine and and I'll put mine in yours?" he said.

"Oh, uh," Poe said, deciding that was a language-barrier thing and it must not sound that dirty in French, and he tried not to blush as they traded phones. "Sure?" Finn's small smile made Poe wonder if he was flirting (?!) but it was quickly gone. Poe quickly forwarded him the link for the audition, before he realized that a silence had stretched. "Uh. Yeah, so. I can at least get you tickets," he said.

Finn put his number into the phone and passed it back to Poe. "That would be incredible. I've wanted to see that show since I first heard about it. Rap and show tunes in the same musical? And _In the Heights_ was brilliant." He paused, Bea's words catching up to him finally. He almost jumped up from his seat in excitement. "Wait wait wait. I'm taking to Alexander Hamilton. I slept on your _couch_ last night!" he yelped. This guy was his _neighbor_. New York was the greatest place. "So what you're saying is we could have a sing-along," he joked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying. And, I mean, I'm not Alexander Hamilton _yet_." He grinned, and finally sat down with his own bowl of oatmeal. So the guy liked rap...maybe he knew that French hip-hop artist Poe liked so much, F.N. But that would be kind of rude, to assume he knew of him just because the kid was French and Black and liked rap... "Anyway, yeah, I can make sure you see the show. Maybe in exchange for a night or two of babysitting?" Haha, here he was offering his kid to this guy he barely knew, who was practically a kid himself.

Finn looked over at Bea. "How 'bout it? Will you be good if your dad asks me to babysit?" he asked her. He wasn't sure how to babysit, but Bea seemed like a good kid who he could probably keep from getting into any serious mischief. Hopefully. Maybe Poe wouldn't ask soon and he'd have a chance to figure it out.

Beatrice kicked her feet and grinned at Finn—too happily. "Yeah!" she cried. "We could play moon pirates?" she suggested, and she slurred it, as only a two-year-old with a mouth full of oatmeal could.

"Moon pirates," Poe translated. "I dunno, I think she watches too much _Star Wars_. Bea Bea, don't talk with your mouth full, honey, it's not polite," he scolded, but not with any force. He grinned up at Finn. "So. You need furniture?"

Finn chewed on his lip thoughtfully before giving the moon pirates a mental shrug. "Oui! Furniture. A couch and a bed for certain. I'm not sure what else," he said. He didn't really remember what the inside of the apartment looked like, but probably a bookshelf and a table and a TV stand would be useful. And a bedside table.

"It's completely unfurnished up there?" Poe said, though he supposed _his_ place had only come furnished because a spoiled prick had moved out and wanted to buy "better" stuff. "Okay, buddy, yeah. We got kind of a furniture row on 47th. Any cab can get you there. You need to borrow anything, though, mon ami, you just let me know." He winked again, and then got up to clean up his daughter's face, who took issue with this and decided to scream. Poe laughed a little wearily. "Okay, and that's us going to get ready for today," he said, picking her up. "Really, really, good to meet you, Finn. And seriously, come by, for anything at all, to say hi, whatever." He held out a hand and shook it, warmly. (Hey a _friend_? he thought to himself. Someone you actually get to know instead of sleeping with and never calling again because you feel guilty? What a concept!)

Finn winced slightly at the pitch of the screaming but recovered to shake Poe's hand. "Thank you for everything. As soon as I have furniture, you're invited to dinner! With Bea, of course." He went to gather his clothes and waved Poe off when he tried to juggle his child with opening the door. "Got it. Have a good day," Finn told both of them, and then he was alone in the hall. With a shrug, he turned and went back to his flat to plan out furniture.


End file.
